Anything
by EsmeAmelia
Summary: Slight AU. On the bridge, Kylo is more overt about what he wants Han to do.


AN: If you seriously think I own Star Wars, you need help. This is based on a theory my friend RensKnight has that Kylo might have been suicidal on the bridge, so I imagined this slight AU where he's overt about that.

WARNING: This fic deals with SUICIDE, so read with caution.

"Anything"

By EsmeAmelia

"I know what I have to do, but I don't know if I have the strength to do it. Will you help me?"

"Yes," Han said without any hesitation. "Anything."

Ben's face was so sad, so vulnerable, so much like Han's _son_ instead of the soulless Knight of Ren he'd been masquerading as. Han felt his eyes starting to well up. Had he ever _really_ expected his boy to actually come back? So long had he desperately wished that Ben was still somewhere under that mask but thought it a hopeless dream, yet now he saw his little boy again.

Slowly, with shortened breath, Ben handed over his deactivated lightsaber. Han wrapped his hands around the handle, warm from his son's hands despite the gloves he wore. "It's all right, Ben," he whispered, managing a small smile, unable to stop a tear from streaming down his cheek. "It's all right."

Ben's hands slipped off the lightsaber, leaving Han holding it alone.

Then with a long, deep inhale, his eyes squeezing shut, Ben turned around. "Make it quick," he muttered.

The warmth in Han's heart was suddenly doused with chills. "What?"

"Make it quick," Ben repeated, his voice trembling. "Through the heart, or cut off my head, whichever one you think will end the fastest."

" _What?"_ It was the only word Han could utter.

Ben's hands were shaking. "Go on, do it. I'm ready."

Han's mouth went dry as he stared down at the deadly weapon in his hands. "Ben . . . no . . . you can't expect me to . . ."

"You said you'd do _anything_." Though his back was still turned, Han could feel the sudden forcefulness in his voice. "Now _do it!"_

The lightsaber shook in Han's hands as he remembered an incident from when his son was a teenager. He'd locked himself in the refresher with a knife, refusing to answer even as his parents screamed after him, but fortunately Leia had managed to open the door with the Force before Ben could actually cut himself open.

That incident was part of the reason why Leia decided to send him away to Luke's Jedi school.

"Don't ask me to do this," Han sputtered out.

"You said you'd do _anything,_ " Ben repeated, the hardness back in his voice.

"Not _this_." Now Han's voice was as hard as his son's. "Ben, look, I know you're scared and confused, but this isn't the answer."

Ben whirled around, facing his father again, the rage back in his eyes despite the tear streaks on his cheeks. "What do YOU know about the answer?"

"Ben, listen," said Han, struggling to keep his voice calm, the lightsaber still shaking in his hands. "I once thought the answer was to end everything too."

Suddenly Ben's eyes bulged, though the roughness was still in his voice. "What?"

Han took a deep breath, still squeezing the lightsaber in case Ben decided to grab it, though he knew that even if he stopped Ben from grabbing the lightsaber, Ben could still easily kill himself simply by jumping. This would have to be approached with extreme caution.

"After we lost you," Han said, staring into his son's damp eyes. "I didn't know how to live with that. I thought of just ending everything." He glanced downwards, unable to see how far down the chasm below them went. "The blaster looked more and more tempting every day."

"And did you use it?" Ben's voice came out in a whisper.

Han swallowed. "I tried to once. Your mother stopped me, just like how she stopped you." He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the persistent churning in his stomach as he once again looked his son in the eyes. "It's _not_ the answer, Ben. Trust me."

Trust me. It had been the wrong thing to say. With those two words the fire was instantly back in Ben's eyes, glaring venomously at his father. " _Trust_ you?" he spat. "You who knows NOTHING? You who can't _possibly_ understand anything?"

"I'm tryin', son." How Han wanted to just embrace his son and let him know everything was all right, but he restrained himself from doing so for fear that it would frighten him further. "I really am."

"It doesn't matter if you _try,"_ retorted Ben. "Can a blind person understand the terrifying sight of blood even if he _tries?_ Can a deaf person understand the horrible sound of screams even if she _tries?_ No, you can't possibly comprehend _this._ "

"I might could if you explain it," Han said in a soft, gentle voice, a father's voice.

Ben lowered his eyes. "Can you comprehend having something in your mind that you can _never_ escape?"

Han was silent.

"Can you comprehend being afraid to sleep every night?" Ben continued, his voice full of venom. "Can you comprehend your parents saying they could protect you from the nightmares when they _couldn't?_ Can you comprehend the very real threats being brushed off as childish scares that you would just grow out of?"

"What? You were _always_ allowed to sleep in our bed when you had nightmares!"

"And you think that fixed everything? You think just being in your bed stopped it?"

Han had no answer.

Now Ben was gazing down at the lightsaber still in his father's hand. "The only way to survive is to grow stronger than the fear."

"And you can do that," Han whispered. "By coming home. We can all work this out together."

"Like you did long ago? No, it can't be stopped now." He was breathing in little pants as he kept staring down at the lightsaber. "If you really, truly care about your son, you'll do what I ask."

For a moment it passed through Han's mind to jump himself, then he wondered just why he thought that. Did he think that if he was dead, Ben would be free from the pain? He too looked down at the lightsaber, still trembling in his hand. "No Ben, I can't . . ."

" _Please,"_ Ben's desperate voice hissed out.

Han looked back up into his son's red eyes that were now emitting tears, the eyes that were silently begging for death. How could Ben possibly expect his own father to kill him?

 _If you really, truly care about your son . . ._

Ben wanted death. He actually _wanted_ it, but he was too scared to actually commit the act himself. Was this a test of his father's love? Was this really the only way Ben thought Han could help him?

Han glanced back down at the lightsaber and one of his own tears landed on it.

After wiping his eyes, he filled his lungs as he slowly raised his head back up to face his son, his heart pounding against his ribcage. "All right," he whispered, having to force out every word. "I'll help you."

This time Ben didn't even bother turning around – he merely closed his eyes and something that resembled peace overcame his face, maybe the first time he had felt peace in years. Han's vision blurred as his finger ran over the button that would give his son what he wanted. All he had to do was press down and his son would be dead.

His son would be dead . . .

" _I want to be free of this pain . . ."_

Maybe there was a fleeting moment where Han actually considered doing it.

But he didn't have the strength either.

"I'll help you, son," Han repeated.

With that, he threw the lightsaber as far as he could.

Then everything happened at once. Ben's eyes shot open and in a split-second he had caught the lightsaber with the Force before it could fall into the chasm, pulling it back into his own hand. The vulnerability, the desperation, the hint of peace in his face was all gone, replaced with rage.

"So you _won't_ help!" Ben yelled, a heartbroken undertone in his voice.

"Ben . . ."

It was the only thing Han could say before the lightsaber ignited, the flaming red blade piercing through his chest.

Everything went hazy, as if a fog were overtaking his mind. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, could hardly think as Ben yanked the lightsaber out. He only vaguely realized what was happening, that he would be dead in mere seconds, but somehow he wasn't afraid.

And there was Ben.

Harnessing his very last bit of strength, Han reached out, brushing his son's damp cheek, a final thought forming in his mind before everything went dark.

 _Live, Ben. Live and come back someday._

THE END


End file.
